From the heart of Downtown Los Angeles, posting on issues concerning science, philosophy, political and social commentary and a little bit of satire.

Sunday, March 1, 2009

Demons

Last Wednesday I ventured into the midst of demons to have my teeth cleaned. They were dirty and needed cleaning quite badly, so it was perfectly appropriate for me to make an appointment with the demons to have this done.

Now most of my bright readers will instantly pick up that I am obviously transposing the word "demon," for "dentist." I do this because I truly believe in the creatures described in the novel, "Twilight Eyes," by Dean Ray Koontz, in which the protagonist has the rare ability to see through the disguise of the Goblins, or as I like to call them, Demons, who routinely mask themselves as ordinary human beings in their continued quest to terrorize all of us innocent humans by feeding off their fear and trauma. Naturally, dentists fall into this category.

Think about it. The very thought of going to a dentist causes high anxiety in most "human," human beings. You get there and they make you wait, increasing the amount of discomfort exponentially. Once they strap you down, they openly display all of the diabolical instruments they intend to torture you with, and then they begin.

And they all wear masks, so you can't later identify them for potential exorcism.

What better place for demons to thrive and feed off of human pain and misery than the dentist office.

However, I must have caught them on an off day, as they screwed up and gave me too much lidocaine. I couldn't feel a damn thing as the doctor and technician (cleverly disguised as a beautiful Asian female doctor and a thirty five year old Hispanic male) both rooted around in my mouth. Buzz, buzz, chip, chip, I couldn't feel anything. I could tell that this angered them a great deal by the hard expression on their demon faces. They became more determined, taking an extraordinary amount of time, hoping against hope that I would at least grimace, grunt, or grip the armrest in uncontrolled panic, but I did none of those things. Whenever they removed their fiendish instruments from my helpless mouth, I actually smiled. This of course infuriated them, so they redoubled their efforts. But one can only clean teeth for so long and eventually they had to end.

"Finished already," I merrily inquired.

"Here," the technician handed me a small cup of mouthwash, "rinse out your mouth."

"Okay." I dutifully rinsed away.

"Hummm, I see you have a chipped tooth right here in front," the beautiful demon dentist said.

"Yeah, that tooth had been repaired about ten years ago, but it broke off last week."

"I believe your insurance will cover another repair. Do you want it done?"

"Really! Sure, why not."

"We might as well since we have you all numbed up already. You're still numb, aren't you?"

"Yup!"

"Are you sure? It's been awhile since we applied it."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure."

"Here, let me hit you with this little hammer to make sure."

She ponged at my gums a few times with her demon hammer.

"See, I can't feel a thing."

"Hummm. Robert," she asked the technician, "take an X-ray and photograph the tooth a couple of times. Take your time."

This was done, and soon they were both back in my mouth, working away, probing, hammering, cementing my broken tooth.

When they were finished, the dentist stated, "You have a dead molar on your upper left side. We can extract it now if you wish."

I thought about that, as I sensed feeling returning to my recently besieged gums. "Ahh, let's hold off on that. It doesn't hurt, so for the time being I'll leave it in there."

They both looked extremely disappointed.

"Very well. As for your bottom molar on the right side, it will need a root canal. Unfortunately," she sighed, "we need to get authorization from your insurance company before we can do that. It should take about three weeks."

"Okay."

"And then you'll come back to us."

"Yeah, sure."

"And we'll have a good time."

"Sure."

The dentist directed her assistant to polish my teeth, then X-ray them again.

And finally I was released. As I walked past the demon front office staff. All three looked up and stated in unison, "See you soon."

About Me

Richard Ruprecht Joyce is a writer of political and social commentary and satire, screenwriter, and the author of two memoirs, "Salvation Diary," and "Skid Row Diary," the first two in his famous "Diary Trilogy," the last of which, "Help, I'm Dying Diary," has not been written yet.